Spectra of Grey
by StarShinobi
Summary: It's been months since the final battle and the world is still dealing with the aftermath. Could a chance meeting with an old foe when heading to his Auror interview change his mind about the man? My take on what lead to the nod in the Epilogue. No slash.


Hey! I know I should be working on some of my other stories (I take much too long to update them the way it is), but I just had to put this one on paper. I had always had one problem with the epilogue of Harry Potter and that was the weird scene with the nod between them. I always wondered what happened other than pure maturity coming into play. Well, here is my take on how Harry came to understand Draco at least.

Heads up, some of the character could be seen as a little OOC, but my reasoning is there is no reason to hide behind a façade any longer and they are finally able to be what they truly are. So please don't harp on me for that. You want characters acting exactly like Rowling wrote them, then go read her books. (Sorry, I always get some snippy review about that no matter how hard I try to stay on cannon).

Also, i have officially joined Twitter (never thought I would do that) but only for my fanfic stuff. If you would like to see what I am up to or want to send me ideas of things you might want me to do, follow me on twitter under my pen name. /StarShinobi

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters which belong to J.K. Rowling. I only have an idea.

Warnings: Angst ad mentions of violence.

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><p>"It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance."<p>

-Robert F. Kennedy

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><p>"Today's the big day!" said Mr. Weasley as he sat across the table from the spectacled young man.<p>

Harry looked up at the man as Mrs. Weasley placed a plate of eggs and ham in front of him. He had come to stay with the Weasley's over the holiday, as had Hermione until she was able to locate her parents in Australia. He knew he could go to Grimmauld Place at any time, he just felt he needed to be here. "I can't wait. I am so nervous but I've been waiting for this since my fourth year at Hogwarts."

"Well we know the interview is just a formality," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile. "You're destined to be an Auror."

Harry shot her an appreciative smile. "It will be a piece of cake, Mrs. Weasley."

"Please, Harry, we have been over this. You should start calling me Molly."

"Sorry, Mrs… I mean, Molly." He shot her another smile.

"Don't be too cocky though," said Arthur as he pushed his eggs around before taking a bite. "They're really going to test you in there. There will be one question in particular I know they will ask you."

"What's that?" asked Harry, his interest peaking.

"What do you think should be done with all of the Death Eaters?"

"Seriously? That's the question?" asked Harry, confused. "Shouldn't that be a simple answer? The lot of them should be locked up in Azkaban until they rot. The cowards made their decision to side with Voldemort and now they must accept the consequences of their decision."

"Is that truly how you feel?" asked Molly.

"Yeah," he replied plainly.

"Why don't you think about that question on your way over?"

"You're not coming with me? Don't you have to work?"

"I am going to take the day off," said Arthur sadly. "George… George's already having a tough day. Molly and I are going to go over and see if we can cheer him up a little."

"Is it Fred again?"

"He misses him everyday, but some days are worse than others," said Molly. "He says there are days that feel like he is missing one of his arms. He's been getting better, but there are some days where I'm not sure we've made any progress at all."

"I'm sorry, I know I promised I would be there to wish you luck…" said Arthur.

"Not at all, Mr. Weas…Arthur. George needs you more than I do."

"Good luck today," said Molly smiling, dawning her coat.

"Think about what I said," said Arthur, doing the same.

"I will," said Harry. "Give my best to George."

"We will, dear. Why don't you use the floo network to get to the ministry today? Might be a bit tough to apparate in." With that, Molly and Arthur apparated with a loud snap.

Harry wandered around the house for another ten minutes before deciding that he should go. He had another hour or so before he was to meet with the interviewer, but he thought maybe he could walk around the Ministry for a while, get some inspiration from the halls he hoped to be soon working in.

He walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder, throwing it into the hearth. He stepped into the cool, green flames. "Ministry of Magic!" he called clearly, remembering how mispronouncing his destination had gotten him into trouble before. He felt the strange pull of floo transportation before finding himself standing in one of the strange, black marble fireplaces of the Ministry.

Harry stepped out of the fire and was caught off guard by the number of people standing in the foyer. He was confused for a few moments before he remembered Arthur had told him a couple of weeks ago that reporters had been hanging around the building ever since the Death Eater trials had begun. Still, he had said that only five or six of them had been covering the trials at any given time, but today, the deafening noise emitting from the uncountable numbers of people that had culminated was ridiculous.

_Who could possibly be on trial today that would pull in _this_ many people?_ thought Harry, The big leaders such as Snape, Bellatrix, and Fenrir Greyback, had all been killed in the war. The other Original Death Eaters had been tried first and several had already been given the Dementor's kiss. The only one still at large was that oily coward Lucius Malfoy… Then it hit him…

Draco.

Today was Draco's trial. He remembered seeing it in the paper yesterday, but he had been too preoccupied with his interview to remember. Of course there would be so many reporters here for that. Malfoy had caused quite the uproar after the war. All of the Death Eaters that had the ability to run after the final battle had gone into hiding. The Ministry did not have the resources to find the hundreds of the Dark Lord's followers, and though they were being hunted, it was very likely that the majority of them would never have to answer for their actions.

That was why it was so surprising the day Draco Malfoy showed up at the Ministry just one month after the final battle, handed over his wand, and became the only Death Eater to ever turn himself in.

Rumors flew at that point. People said he was running from the remaining Death Eaters. Others said he was trying to gain leniency. Still others said he was trying to reunite with his secret lover. Harry had found that one especially amusing because the "secret lover" had ranged from Luna Lovegood, to Hermione, to even himself. Whatever it was, Harry knew the coward was doing it to save his own skin.

The crowd before him started moving, pulling Harry from his thoughts. He suddenly remembered a conversation he had with Hermione a few days ago.

"_Harry, did you see that Draco is being tried the same day as your interview?" she asked._

"_No," he sighed. _

"_Just like that git to have to have his trial that day," said Ron._

"_I really doubt he _tried_ to do this on purpose," she groaned. "Nonetheless, Harry, you might want to try and avoid the reporters that will no doubt be there covering the trial. Last thing you need on the day of your interview is to either look like a Death Eater supporter or to look like you want to see him be punished. You want to look objective."_

Harry looked around and silently thanked God that none of the reporters had seen him yet. It had been three months since he defeated Voldemort, but the press never seemed to pass by a chance to speak with him. He quickly ran between the fireplaces and followed the hallway behind them. Arthur had shown him a scenic route to get to the Auror's office in the Ministry and he fully intended on using it to avoid anyone from the _Prophet _, or even worse, the _Quibbler._ Who knew how they would spin that.

He followed the hallway for quite some time, winding this way and that way but never seeing a soul. That must be why he was so surprised to run across someone chained to a bench next to a large iron door. The minute Harry saw him, he knew who he was and found that he now would have rather taken on the reporters.

For the man was none other than Draco himself.

Harry was about to turn around, but hesitated a moment, taking in the appearance of his old foe. He sat with his elbows resting on his thighs, his shackled hands hanging between his knees. His shoulders were slumped as if he were either deeply depressed or incredibly sad, possibly both. Though his gaze was focused on the ground and his white hair, which had grown considerable since Harry had last seen him, covered his face, he could just make out how pale his skin looked, as if Harry could almost see through him. For some reason, a reason Harry to this day can not figure out, he felt sorry for the man and felt the need to address him.

"Feeling sorry for yourself, ferret?" He felt the need, didn't mean he felt the need to be nice to him.

Draco slowly lifted his head and stared at the Harry. Though his body appeared weathered and weak, Harry found that those steel blue eyes still held there icy composure, as if he could stare down any problem that came his way. "Potter," he greeted weakly, but with the same dismissal Harry had come to know from the pureblood.

He could hardly believe it, the git was shackled to a chair and he still had the gall to dismiss Harry. With a sigh of irritation, he began his walk down the hallway again. As he passed by the blonde-haired man, he let his years of frustration take control and uttered the words, "Rot in hell, Malfoy."

He expected that to be the last word in the conversation as Draco didn't even seem to shift in his chair at the comment. All that could be heard was the light tapping of Harry's shoes on the marble floors. He was fairly proud of himself. He knew it was childish, but he had wanted to finally say those words to the Death Eater, and dare he admit it? It felt good.

He was so proud of himself, he almost missed the fact that Draco responded with a defeated, "Probably will."

He wanted to walk away, to continue on his trek to the interview, but Draco's words made him feel an almost physical need to ask a question that had been haunting him for months. He came to a stop but he didn't turn around. "Why did you do it?"

He heard Draco finally shift behind him and cause the chains that restrained him to rattle. "Do what?" he asked, not as if he was pretending he had no idea what Harry was talking about, but as if there was a list of possibilities and he wanted the Golden Boy to be more specific.

This in itself caused Harry to pause. The question made Harry realize there were actually quite a few things that had happened that had made him want to ask Draco this question. A lot of things he wanted to scream at his old classmate for. He opened his mouth to ask, but he didn't know which one to ask about and ended up opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Come on, Potter," said Draco, scooting over on his bench to make room for the national hero, "take a seat. I have another half and hour before my trial starts and you have some time before your interview."

This made Harry turn back around, confused. "How did you…?"

"Guards talk loud and star-struck guards talk louder. You're all the Aurors have been able to talk about all week. Now come on, you want answers."

"I'm not sitting by you. You might try to finish what Voldemort started," said Harry as he leaned on the wall directly across from the Malfoy heir.

"I'm not loyal to that bastard," said Draco, a hint of anger finding its way into his defeated voice.

"The mark on your arm says otherwise," said Harry, nodding head toward the tattoo visible on the pureblood's pale skin.

"I had to take that." The anger in his voice was completely gone.

"There's always a choice," he said matter-of-factly. "You didn't _have_ to become a Death Eater."

He watched Draco shake his head, causing the thin blond hair to fall back in front of his eyes. "If you believe that then you truly are the close-minded fool I always thought you were."

"You bloody…" Harry seethed.

"What other choice did I have?" asked Draco, an edginess in his defeated voice. "The Dark Lord was coming for me to punish my family for my father's mistakes. If I ran, who would have taken me in? I'm a Malfoy, no one wants that in their home and I would have needed a place to hide. With this stupid blonde hair and my face on the front of the _Daily Prophet_ from my father's arrest_,_ I would have stuck out in a crowd like a giant among goblins. And we both know I would die in the wilderness. There was never a need to learn how to take care of myself in that way when I was growing up."

"You could have tried," said Harry accusingly.

Draco looked into Harry's eyes and Harry was surprised to see the pain there. "I was fifteen when I was forced to make the decision to take the Mark. I was inducted when I turned sixteen. What was I supposed to do? Not all of us have a refuge to run to."

"So you just think you should be forgiven, let everything you've done go unpunished?"

"No," replied Draco calmly.

"What?" asked Harry leaning forward, a bit thrown by this.

"I was put into Slytherine house, not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. It means I'm cunning, someone who thinks three steps ahead, a planner. I made my decisions based on a certain set of criteria and knew one day I would have to live with the consequences. Who are you to tell me that consequences aren't worth what I saved in the process? The minute I took the Dark Mark, I knew I would end up being punished no matter who won, either because of my treacherous acts or because I was a Death Eater. But I saved some people along the way, and that makes all of this," he said lightly shaking his chains, "worth it."

"Criteria, Malfoy? What could you possibly use to determine whether or not it's _worth it_?"

"It may come as a surprise to you, Potter, but I make my decisions based on how many people will be hurt by my actions."

"You mean how _you_ will be hurt."

"To your credit, that used to be true, but I hardly fit into the equation anymore."

"Used to be true? And when did that change?" asked Harry sarcastically.

"Buckbeak."

"What?"

"Buckbeak was the last time I made a decision to protect myself."

"Whatever, Malfoy."

"Look, Potter, life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine at my house like everyone thought, ok. I learned very quickly that my failures at school led to… consequences, and my father did not like it very much that I was being beaten in every subject by a Muggle born."

"Oh please, you can't blame this all on Hermione."

"I'm not. She has nothing to be ashamed of except for the fact that she is an unsuffereble know-it-all. Right before we came back to Hogwarts, my father decided to remind me what those consequences were. Long story short, my arm got broken and I couldn't tell anyone about it."

"Wait, your dad…he hurt you?" asked Harry. To be honest, he had always wondered in the back of his mind if that happened, but it just now seemed likely.

"Come on, Potter. It's a tradition as old as the Pureblood families that use it. It actually happened to more Slytherins than you think."

"But you idolized your father!"

"No." Harry was really getting irritated with Draco's calm responses, like he had long come to terms with these things. "No, I didn't idolize him. I feared him, and yet I so badly wanted his approval. I figured if I made him proud it would all stop."

"What about the whole 'Wait 'til my father hears about this' rubbish?"

"My father always liked having his nose where it doesn't belong. He told me to always let him know what was happening at Hogwarts, and so I told him, thinking that one day I would bring him something he would congratulate me for. More times then not I would receive a 'lesson' about what was useless information."

"Then why would you keep running back to him?"

"Because I so badly wanted him to be proud of me it hurt," he said hanging his head. "I was so pathetic."

"So that's what happened with Buckbeak?"

"When I told him what happened, he knew if he didn't do anything, people would ask questions. I told the school Buckbeak broke my arm so they wouldn't look into it and I wouldn't have to face my father. I never thought they would want him killed," he said, his voice filled with regret.

Harry didn't know why, but he felt the sudden urge to tell Draco that the creature had been saved, that he had not faced the executioner. He knew he couldn't though, that would have lead to questions that he wouldn't be able answer.

"After that, I knew I had to change. I knew I couldn't let other people or other creatures be punished for things that I had done. I decided to start looking at who else would be hurt based on my decisions before I considered myself."

"Yeah, name one decision you made based on other people."

"Becoming a Death Eater, deciding not to kill Dumbledore…

"I was there, Malfoy, you were too cowardly to do it yourself."

"You were there?" he said his head shooting up. "Then you know that I didn't want to kill him."

"I still don't know what I saw."

"Well then I'll tell you what you saw," said Draco with more anger in his voice and, were those the beginning of tears? "You saw a kid who had been told join the Death Eaters and kill a man or the Dark Lord would kill you, your mother, and your father. You saw a sixteen year old who knew that if he didn't take the Mark and kill an old man who had watched him like a hawk for years, his godfather would either have to do it for him or die because of the Unbreakable Oath that his aunt had pretty much forced him to take!"

"But you didn't do it," said Harry plainly.

"I couldn't," he said, the anger quickly leaving him. "I… I was exactly what he said. I wasn't a killer. I knew that if I took that old fool's life, I would be creating an opening for the Dark Lord. There would be nothing protecting you at this school, and as much as I hated you, I knew I couldn't do that."

"You know you wouldn't do anything for me, you evil git. Like you said, you hated me."

"I disliked you because of your personality, does that make me evil? Not everyone _has_ to like you just because you were the Boy Who Lived. I respected your position, but I hated you because you were the Golden Boy who could do no wrong and got away with everything that any of the rest of us would have gotten expelled for. I was a Death Eater's son that could not put a toe out of line without the hand of God coming down on me. I hated you and that old man because of it, but despite the fact that I tried to tap into that anger to take him out, I couldn't do it. It wasn't right."

"Dumbledore still died," Harry said sadly.

"And I don't pretend that my actions didn't lead to that. I left you unprotected; I left the Wizarding World open to attack because of it. I vowed from that point forward that I would do whatever I could to make up for that."

"And you feel you did that?" he said, not trying to hide the venom in his voice.

"No, I don't think I can ever make up for that even if I had killed the Dark Lord myself. I do think, though, that I gave it a good go."

Harry was finding it harder and harder to be angry with the blonde man before him. Every time he found some hatred to hold on to, he would say something so out of character, so subtly self loathing that he would lose his grip. He pulled himself away from the wall to tower over the ex-Death Eater and grasped for it again. When he had a good hold, he spoke. "And what did you do that would even begin to make up for that?"

"Protected you by not telling my father that it was you that Greyback brought to our house last Easter."

"So you _did _know it was me!"

"Of course I knew it was you," he said matter-of-factly, shooting Harry a confused look. "The Golden Trio had been missing all year, and then suddenly, two of them show up with a badly swollen, dark haired boy. Didn't you find it strange that no one put two and two together and realized who you were?"

"Of course I did, I have been trying to figure that one out since it happened!"

"And you want to be an Auror…" Draco said shaking his head with a chuckle.

"Hey! There is only one thing I could think of that would cause that many people to not be able to grasp that it was me without asking you and that's the confundus charm!"

"Bingo."

"What?"

"I knew it was you the minute you were brought through our gates. So, I used the confundus on Bellarix and my father, and told them I couldn't tell if it was you to buy us some time to get you out."

"But why?"

"Because if the Dark Lord was told you were there and he came to Malfoy Manner, he would have killed you and the war would have been lost."

"But you were working for the other side!"

"_Working_ for and _fighting_ for are two very different things."

"You can't take credit for getting me out, Malfoy," said Harry darkly. "Dobby was the one that came and saved us."

"And how do you suppose he knew where to find you?"

"Well, he… I … He just… I suppose you will take credit for that."

Draco smiled and shook his head. "Not me. It was my mother."

"What?"

"My mother never wanted to get involved with the Dark Lord, but being married to my father and coming from the family she did, she had no choice but to stand silent."

"But…"

"After you all were brought to the dungeons and Bellatrix asked for some…alone time…with Hermione, my mother pulled me aside. She asked me if it was really you and I told her it was. She said she would take care of it. She sent out one of the house elves to get help and somehow word got to Dobby. Someone must have known he was our old house elf and he would know how to get around my father's wards in the manor."

"So, she didn't support Voldemort?"

"Despite the fact we never talked about it, I always knew that about her, especially when the Dark Lord came to 'ask' me to join his ranks. She put up as much of a fight as she could without being killed."

"But Voldemort wasn't an idiot," Harry stated. "What happened when he put the pieces together?"

"I told him I called Dobby and made up some story about him helping. I honestly don't remember everything that was said. I just remember waking up three days later with my mother sobbing out apologies about letting me take her punishment."

"Why would you do that?" asked Harry.

Draco cocked his head and shot Harry a confused look. "She's my mother, Potter. She is the only one that truly loves me and I her. I was afraid of death," he said with a sigh. "Bloody hell, I still am, but some things are more important than that fear. I would surrender my soul for that woman."

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for his adversary and quickly struggled to find that spite again. "But the fact still stands that you and she still worked for him!"

"We did what we could to help."

"No, there were so many people who did so much more than you did. Some people lost their lives fighting instead of sneaking in the shadows."

"And I don't pretend to be on the same level as those people nor do I expect to be treated the respect _they_ deserve. That doesn't change the fact that not all of us can be outwardly defiant, but any sort of resistance helps doesn't it? Some of us help the only way we see we can."

"You could have fought!"

"I'm not like you, Potter. I am a good wizard, but not all of us were as powerful as you were at our age. The things you can pull out of your arse is a natural talent I can't rely on in a fight. I have to rely on my wit to survive which means subtle resistance. I may dislike you greatly, Potter, not because of your destiny, but because of your personality. Nonetheless, I also knew that you were the only one who could do what you did, and I was willing to risk my life for the chance that you could save us all."

Harry was taken aback by this. Maybe Draco really had done what he could to help. Voldemort had constant access to him. Would he really had respected Draco more by getting himself killed by resisting Voldmort, or were his backdoor sabotaging actions just as helpful. He turned and looked at the deteriorating man beside him and realized at some point in the conversation, he had taken that offered spot on the bench.

"I don't understand, Malfoy," began Harry, leaning on his thighs with his elbows, folded hands falling between his knees, "if you really hate me like I hate you, why are you telling me all of this?"

"I don't know," he replied, looking at the dark grey wall across the hallway. "Maybe I still have this selfish desire to watch out for myself, but really, I just want someone to know what I did. I think Dumbledore knew some of what happened before he died, but I never told anyone what I did, the reasons I made the choices I did because I was content on simply doing the right thing. But now, waiting to receive my sentence to Azkaban, I don't want to get out of it, I just want someone to know what I did. Even if that person won't believe a thing I say." He released a sigh. "I just want someone to remember me."

There was a long, strange pause between the two; a sense of understanding fell over Harry that he never felt before. Suddenly, the door to the court opened and an Auror came out. "You're up, Death Eater," he said with an air of disgust.

Draco got to his feet with a tired grunt, the mask he wore during their school days visibly returning as the guard released the chain attaching him to the bench. "Good luck with your interview, Potter. You're gonna make one hell of an Auror."

Draco turned away and began to walk into the court room. Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach. It was the same feeling he had at the end of the war as he took the train back with his friends and watched his old classmates leave, knowing he may never see some of them again. That's when he understood. This was not about old school rivalries or the mistakes made during a time of stress and death. This was a time for renewal, for forgiveness, and a time to mend the wounds created over centuries of misunderstanding and prejudice. This was a time to fix the problem made over generations and start anew.

"Draco!" Harry called.

The blonde man looked over his shoulder at his old adversary. "Yes?"

"Good luck, and when you go in there, show them the man that just talked to me."

"Why?" he asked, a bit of surprise in his voice and he turned to face him, the mask he had placed on his face melting away.

"Because _that_ man deserves a second chance."

With that, Draco gave Harry a smile, much like the taunting smirk he so often gave the Trio at school. However, unlike the smirk of the old days, this one held no malice, but acceptance.

"Thank you, Harry."

The Auror closed the door, leaving Harry alone in the hallway again. He looked at his watch, realizing he needed to get to his interview and began walking again, lost in thought. Before he knew it, he was in front of the Auror's office. He pushed open the door and was shown to the interview room where he sat before an Auror he had never met before.

"Well, Mr. Potter, we were wondering when you would finally decide to join our ranks," the man smiled.

"I'm looking forward to the possibility of working with some of the greatest witches and wizards in the world."

"Ah, flattery," the man laughed. "Well, shall we begin then?"

"Of course, sir."

"So, Mr. Potter, my first question is how do you feel we should punish the Death Eaters?"

Harry could not help but let a small smile grace his lips. Not only had Arthur called it, he was also right about thinking more about the question.

"I think the answer is harder than you make it, because people are not black and white. They are a spectra of grey and each person, and their intentions, need to be examined…understood. Sometimes decisions are not merely based on the belief in the cause, but in the fear of ones we love, and let me tell you, love will always trump fear. Even fear of death or punishment."

He hoped his answer would have made Arthur proud.

The Auror paused for a moment, surprise registering in his eyes but not his face as he stared at Harry. Suddenly, a smile graced the man's face. "Very good, Mr. Potter."

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><p>"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is a reaction, both are transformed."<p>

-Carl Jung

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><p>So, how did you like it? I could have worked on this one forever but it almost took me that long to write this version. Please review and let me know! Constructive criticism is always welcome.<p> 


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